


Grass Stains

by DelilahMcMuffin



Series: Randoms - A Series of Random Prompts [17]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Accidental Frat David, Filth and Feelings, M/M, mowing the lawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/pseuds/DelilahMcMuffin
Summary: David mows the lawn. And Patrick loses his fucking mind.That’s it. That’s the entire story.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Randoms - A Series of Random Prompts [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556491
Comments: 88
Kudos: 441
Collections: The Rosebudd Ficlets





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8jodaiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8jodaiko/gifts), [NeelyO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeelyO/gifts), [RhetoricalQuestions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricalQuestions/gifts).



> My first jukebox prompt in a while. I may have gotten carried away.
> 
> Now with Chapter 2! Note the rating has been levelled up to E.

Patrick pulls into the driveway, exhausted after his long drive back from the conference in Thornbridge. Despite the fact that he and David have called the cottage home for almost eight months, he still gets a little thrill every time he comes home after being away for a few days. Like he can’t quite believe that this is his life.

He loves their home, and together they’ve made it a cozy escape that reflects their life together. Yes, David may have had final say on the interior decorations, but he had been so thoughtful and so careful to ensure that their home represented Patrick just as much as himself.

Getting out of the car, Patrick hears the whine of a lawn mower and his shoulders slump tiredly. He’d promised David the next day he had off, he would mow the lawn. It’s just that the lawn is so big and it takes so long, and there is so much to do at the store...Patrick knows it needs to be done, but he feels so guilty leaving David to take care of the store by himself for another day after he’s been on his own all week while Patrick has been away.

Maybe he can get it done tonight, although the thought of spending the next hour shoving the mower around the lawn makes him consider paving their backyard, just to avoid the hassle. He’d prefer to spend the time reconnecting with his husband.

He shoves open the front door, dropping his bags on the floor as he kicks the door shut behind him.

“Hey, babe!” he calls out, toeing off his shoes and dropping his keys in the dish by the door. “I’m home!”

There’s no response. Maybe David is napping, although he knew Patrick was coming home today and he usually greets Patrick enthusiastically at the door with a sweet but messy kiss, maybe a glass of wine. 

Disappointment blooming in his chest, Patrick picks up his bags and hauls them toward the stairs. “David?” 

Still no answer. Nothing but the hum of the mower somewhere in the distance. Patrick awkwardly maneuvers himself and his bags up the stairs. Their bedroom door is open, the bed neatly made. And there is no sign of David. Patrick throws his bags on the bed and puts his hands on his hips, wondering where on earth his husband could be.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches movement in the backyard. He goes to the window and peers out, his eyes widening with surprise. David—his David—is mowing the lawn.

Turning and racing down the stairs, Patrick comes to a stop on the back porch, just taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him.

His usually impeccably-attired husband is wearing a pair of black, drop-crotch shorts and Patrick’s rubber boots. Instead of putting one of his designer sweaters at risk, David is wearing one of Patrick’s faded old Blue Jays t-shirts—the one with the ¾ sleeves—which is maybe a size too small for his broad shoulders. There are dark stains under his arms and down his chest and back and the fabric clings to his body like a second skin. And on his head, David has on Patrick’s Maple Leafs baseball cap, turned backward, a single damp curl of dark hair poking through the gap above the closure.

He is sweaty and red-faced and swearing like a sailor on leave as he marches up and down the yard, head down, pushing the mower ahead of him. As in everything else in life, David is meticulous in his technique, and Patrick can see the neat, straight lines running the length of their yard. 

When the final patch of lawn is done, David comes to a stop, relaxes his grip on the mower’s handles and collapses on his back on the newly mown grass with a loud, weary moan.

Patrick bounds down the porch stairs, coming to a stop beside David so he is blocking the sun from David’s overheated face. David cracks open one eye, peering up at him, a tiny, exhausted smile tugging at his lips.

“Fuck. I thought I’d be done before you got home,” David groans. “I wanted to shower and save you from having to see me like this.” He gestures down to his sweat-drenched body.

Patrick crouches next to David and smiles, letting his eyes rake appreciatively down his husband’s torso. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t appreciate all of this?” David cocks an eyebrow quizzically and Patrick’s smile widens. “This is a very good look for you,” Patrick says, lowering himself to his knees and moving to straddle his husband’s hips. “Very manly.” Patrick braces himself, hands buried in the grass on either side of David’s head. “ _Very_ sexy.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm,” Patrick hums, leaning forward to capture David’s lips in a kiss. It starts out gentle, but Patrick quickly gets carried away. David tastes like sunshine and sweat and salt and it’s too much for Patrick to handle after missing his husband all week. He lets one hand drift to the hem of David’s shirt—well, _his_ shirt, really—and lets his fingers slide up under the fabric. David’s skin is slick with sweat and Patrick groans into David’s mouth and rolls his hips. David whimpers and breaks the kiss, turning his head to the side.

“Patrick...God. Don’t. I’m...I’m disgusting.”

Patrick licks a stripe up David’s neck, his mouth filled with the salty tang of David’s skin. “Mmm…I disagree.” Hooking a finger into the neck of the Jays t-shirt, Patrick tugs hard—something he would never dare to do with one of David’s precious sweaters—stretching the wash-worn fabric and exposing David’s collar bone. “Fuck, David. You have no idea, do you? What you fucking do to me?”

“I...Jesus, Patrick,” David whines as Patrick sucks a bright purple bruise at the base of David’s throat. “Fuck, baby. Tell me. Fucking tell me!”

“Mmm...you look like...God, you look like the kind of boy I would’ve had a thing for in college,” Patrick says, roughly tugging at the neckline again so he can expose more of David’s chest. The shirt is beyond saving now, but Patrick can’t bring himself to care. The hair between David’s pecs is damp and smells musky and manly and Patrick can’t help but bury his nose in it, breathing deeply. “I never...I didn’t know…” Patrick murmurs quietly into David’s chest hair. He feels David’s hand petting gently at the nape of his neck.

“Okay, honey,” David says softly, and Patrick knows that David understands. “But um...can we maybe take this inside? There are bugs out here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this was written quickly with no beta, so I’m sure there are a plethora of typos.
> 
> Also, I could very easily be persuaded to write a chapter 2 to this.
> 
> Come and say hi on Tumblr @delilah-mcmuffin
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> D McM


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that he hasn’t seen David’s arms before. Obviously he has. It’s just that typically, David favours oversize sweaters that hang loosely over his frame. And normally, Patrick is more than happy to let his hands roam beneath the excessively baggy shirts to find his husband’s body. It’s just...it’s nice to see it on display like this sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard you all, loud and clear. And so I present: Chapter 2.
> 
> I was hoping to get this done last weekend in time for my lovely friend NeelyO’s birthday. But life and the world got in the way. And now it’s my other lovely friend RhetoricalQuestions’s special day and I’m hoping that my two wonderful friends don’t mind sharing this little nugget of filth and feelings.

It takes a Herculean amount of willpower, but Patrick lets David get all the way to the porch before he’s on him again. He wraps his arms around David from behind, pressing his face into the sweat stain that runs down between David’s shoulder blades. He can feel David’s shoulders shake with laughter as he tries, unsuccessfully, to keep his balance while simultaneously holding up his husband and trying to pull his feet from the rubber boots.

“Oh my God,” David snorts, bracing one hand against the back door, reaching down with the other to get his finger inside the lip of the boot to break the vacuum seal that has a tight hold of him. The boot makes an unappealing squelching noise as it finally releases David’s foot. “Ugh. So gross.”

“You mispronounced _‘sexy’,”_ Patrick teases, nipping at the back of David’s sweaty neck.

“Mmm...Nope. Pretty sure I got it right,” David says as he pulls a black knee-high sock from his foot. “Jesus. This turns you on?” He holds the sock up, the material dangling from his fingers like a baggie full of mouse droppings.

Patrick scrunches up his face. The sock _is_ a bit much. _“You_ turn me on,” he says, getting his hands on the drawstring of David’s pants and beginning to work the knot loose. His husband looks good enough to fucking eat and Patrick needs to get into his pants, like, _right now._

David laughs self-deprecatingly. “Whatever you say.” He’s working his way into the other boot now and Patrick knows he isn’t helping at all, his hands roaming up David’s chest, down into the front of his shorts, grabbing at his hips. “Patrick!” David’s voice is equal parts amusement and frustration. “God, it’s like you’re made of arms, and none of them are being helpful right now.”

Patrick’s hands retreat and he grabs David by the shoulders, spinning him around and pushing his back against the door. He drops to his knees and takes David’s booted foot in his hands and tugs. The boot sticks for a moment, but then pops off with a wet slurp and... _Oof_. It is a bit swampy this close up. Patrick tosses the boot over his shoulder and peels off the sock, chucking it in the same direction as the boot and ignoring David’s protest of “Hey! That’s _my_ sock!”

Patrick is down on his knees, and David’s crotch is right there. And Patrick can smell him, a heady mixture of sweat and arousal. As much as David is protesting, he’s clearly enjoying being the object of Patrick’s lust. The tent burgeoning in his shorts is evidence that he’s on board.

“Patrick,” David breathes, fingers winding their way through the curls that Patrick has let grow out just a bit these last few months. “God, I missed you.”

“Mmm,” Patrick hums as he presses his face into the soft fabric covering David’s cock. “I missed you too.”

Patrick feels David’s fingers tighten against his scalp and it’s a feeling he is still getting used to. For most of his adult life, he’s kept his hair short. Rachel was never much of a hair puller, but David...well, he loves to give as good as he gets. And so Patrick’s hair is getting a little longer and David has been very vocal about how much he loves it.

“God, David…” Patrick mouths against David’s cock, and David gives his hair another tug. “Fuck. Yes.”

“We should...fuck. We should go inside,” David stutters out between tugs to Patrick’s hair. “Mrs...Mrs. Simons from next door will be out to water her garden soon.”

Patrick sighs, resting his forehead on David’s hip. Their elderly and extremely nosy neighbour is constantly poking her head over their adjoining fence. She’s harmless, really. But she’s already caught David sunbathing naked on their porch and that’s something that he knows David is not eager to repeat.

“Fine,” he says, pressing in to nuzzle one last time against David’s dick before he gets to his feet. “Although I have to say I was very impressed the last time she caught you. I’ve never seen you move so fast.”

David’s face contorts into a scowl and he harrumphs before opening the screen door and heading inside. Patrick can’t help but laugh. Mrs. Simons had winked at Patrick the next time she’d seen him in the yard, casually mentioning that he was very lucky to have found himself such a “well-endowed young man”. Then she had innocently gone back to watering her begonias as if she hadn’t just commented on the size of his husband’s cock.

Patrick finds David sitting on one of the stools at their breakfast bar, chugging a bottle of water from the fridge. David’s biceps are testing the tensile strength of Patrick’s ratty old t-shirt, and he can’t resist reaching out to slide his hand appreciatively up David’s arm.

It’s not that he hasn’t seen David’s arms before. Obviously he has. It’s just that typically, David favours oversize sweaters that hang loosely over his frame. And normally, Patrick is more than happy to let his hands roam beneath the excessively baggy shirts to find his husband’s body. It’s just...it’s nice to see it on display like this sometimes.

David gulps down the last of the water, twisting the lid back on his bottle and setting it down on the counter. “So much better,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling at Patrick. “So…” David gives his shoulders a playful little shimmy. “I have to ask...Is it just the shirt that’s got you all hot and bothered? Or...or is it me _in_ the shirt? Or does this overall aesthetic just...do something for you?

The question is meant to be lighthearted, but Patrick can sense the slight undercurrent of insecurity rippling just below the surface. David likes to look a certain way, and while Patrick finds him unbearably attractive no matter how he looks, he knows David will take some convincing.

“Oh, it’s all you,” Patrick says, closing the distance between them and stepping between David’s knees. His eyes are laser-focused on the bright purple mark blossoming at the base of David’s throat, and he reaches a finger out to gently press on it, heat building deep in his belly at the hiss of pleasure this elicits from his husband. “God, you...you are so sexy, David.” He runs a single finger down David’s chest, collecting a fingerful of sweat. He brings his finger to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at the salty goodness. 

David watches him, his dark eyes so blown they’re almost black. Patrick hears a hitch in David’s breathing, sees as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down. 

“So, um…so what’s the plan?” David asks, head tilted downward, looking shyly up at Patrick through lowered lashes.

Patrick frowns thoughtfully. He doesn't actually have a plan. He’d just seen his gorgeous husband laid out on the grass looking like a frat boy from the fantasies he would have had in college if he’d known what he knows now about himself.

And that’s something he’d like to play with, sometime soon, when they’ve had a chance to talk it through. But right now, Patrick just wants to appreciate his gorgeous husband, who he has missed all week. 

“Come with me,” Patrick says, taking David by the hand and pulling him to his feet. David laces their fingers together and follows Patrick into the living room, where Patrick leads him to their couch. He puts a hand on David’s shoulder, pushing him down so he’s sitting on the plush cushions, following him down so he’s straddling David’s thighs. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, honey,” David smiles up at him, hands already moving to settle on Patrick’s hips. 

Patrick leans in, lips pressed to David’s, resuming the kiss they’d started out on the lawn. He feels David grabbing at the back of his shirt, untucking it from his jeans. Large, warm hands find their way up his back, sliding along his spine, pulling him closer.

Tilting his head, Patrick opens his mouth, tongue probing for David’s. He lets his own hands roam up David’s chest, palms curving around his pecks, squeezing gently. He can feel David’s nipples through the t-shirt, hardening into tight little nubs. Breaking the kiss, Patrick lets his gaze fall down to his hands, watches his thumb as it slowly circles David’s nipple.

“Fuck,” David moans, shifting slightly under Patrick. He can feel David’s erection now, hot and hard, pressing against Patrick’s crotch. David tips his head back, exposing his long neck, and Patrick can’t resist. He leans in and brushes his lips down David’s neck, finding the bright purple bruise on David’s collarbone and grazing over the tender skin with his teeth. David’s hands claw at his back, and he lets out a long, low moan. “Patrick…”

“So the plan,” Patrick mumbles against David’s skin, “is that I’m going to mark up your beautiful body. Then I’m gonna suck your cock while I finger myself.” He hears David’s breath hitch and he lets his tongue dip into the divot at the base of David’s throat. “And then you’re gonna fuck me. Sound good?”

“It’s...it’s a good plan,” David replies, his voice breathless. 

“I think so,” Patrick murmurs, slowly kissing his way down David’s chest. He gets to the stretched out neck of the t-shirt. _Fuck it,_ he thinks to himself. He grabs the fabric in both hands and tugs hard until he hears a satisfying rip, and the shirt lays in tatters against David’s chest. “That’s better,” he says. He glances up at David’s face. His eyes have gone wide and his mouth is hanging open.

“That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen you do,” David whispers appreciatively. And then his arms tighten around Patrick, and suddenly Patrick finds himself on his back on the area rug that David had let patrick pick out from Home Depot, and fuck. Patrick loves it when David does that, just moves him, puts Patrick where he wants him. 

It’s not that Patrick doesn’t know David is strong. He just forgets. Because David doesn’t come across as someone who should be able to dead lift a full grown man like it’s nothing, like it’s easy. But David can, because he’s big and strong and gorgeous and he loves Patrick, so he shares this part of himself with his husband. Patrick has spent countless happy hours pretending to watch the news, or sports, when really he’s watching his husband do yoga on his mat in their living room. The quiet strength David exudes, the way his muscles ripple as he changes positions, the effortless way he holds poses that Patrick knows are far from effortless...it’s a lot.

David is unbuttoning the front of Patrick’s shirt, lips following in the wake of his fingers. Patrick grabs the ball cap from David’s head, tossing it somewhere and letting his hands rake through David’s sweat-dampened curls. He gasps and his hips jerk when David bites at his nipple.

“Baby, remember the plan,” Patrick reminds David. But really he doesn’t care because David’s mouth feels so hot and wet and good on his chest. And plans should be made to be broken…or something like that. Patrick can’t quite...he’s very distracted. 

“Mmm, the plan,” David mumbles, kissing his way lower, dipping his tongue into Patrick’s belly button. “So you don’t want me to suck your cock?” David grins up at him from where he’s nuzzling into the sparse hairs leading down below Patrick’s belt. 

“Such a little shit,” Patrick groans when David mouths against the bulge in the front of his jeans. “Fuck, David. Fine. Suck my cock. Suck it for me, baby.”

David’s dimples pop when he smiles, and he quickly divests Patrick of his belt, jeans and underwear. His mouth is hot and slick and feels so good around Patrick’s cock. He slides his fingers back into David’s hair, tugging the way he knows David loves, encouraging him to take him deeper, suck harder. 

David moves to kiss and lick his way down Patrick’s shaft, mouthing at his balls, tongue pressing against his perineum. A long, low groan escapes Patrick’s lips at the press of David’s tongue to his hole. “Yes...baby, yes. Please,” Patrick begs, bending his knees and drawing his knees up to his chest, his hole on display for David. “God, yes...feels so good.”

One of David’s large hands slides up the underside of Patrick’s thigh, pressing his knee higher still, changing the angle, and Patrick’s back arches off the floor and he lets out an animalistic growl as David presses two fingers into his spit-slick hole. The stretch is sudden and it hurts just enough that Patrick’s cock drools a messy puddle of pre-come on to his belly. 

Gazing down at his husband, Patrick watches David greedily suck at his hole. David must feel his eyes on him, and he looks up. He looks beautiful and obscene, with saliva dribbling from his chin down into the thick mat of hair on his chest. Grinning at Patrick, he uses one tattered end of his t-shirt to wipe at his face, then he scoots forward on his knees, pulling Patrick’s ass onto his lap. He strokes slowly at Patrick’s cock while fumbling in the drawer of an end table for the small, discrete bottle of lube they keep there for exactly this type of emergency.

Patrick watches David tip a generous amount of lube into his hand, and then his slick, thick fingers are back inside Patrick—three this time—and Patrick arches again, pressing David’s fingers deeper. David’s eyes are downcast, watching his hand fuck into Patrick’s ass.

“Fuck, honey,” David breathes, seemingly awestruck. “You look...I wish you could see how good you look like this. You’re so beautiful.” David crooks his fingers and Patrick shouts out, closing his eyes as David strokes his prostate, teases the rim of his hole with the edge of his thumb. “So beautiful,” David repeats, and it’s too much. It’s so much.

“David, please,” Patrick begs, “Please, I need...I need your cock, baby. I need it in me.”

David’s eyes slowly trail up Patrick’s body, their eyes meet. David licks his lips. “Yeah? You ready for me?”

“I’m so ready.” Patrick can hear the whine in his voice, the neediness. He doesn’t care. He needs his husband to fill him up with his beautiful, thick cock. “Need you now,” he adds for good measure.

David wiggles his way out of his shorts and underwear and shrugs off the remnants of the shredded t-shirt. He gets his knees right back up against Patrick’s ass and leans forward, one hand flat on the floor beside Patrick’s head, the other slicking up his cock, slowly guiding it between Patrick’s legs. 

He runs the tip against Patrick’s perineum, teases it around his rim, and then presses into Patrick in one long, slow push. And _oh fuck_. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a wanton moan; it feels so good to have his husband buried balls deep in his ass. 

David nuzzles his nose against Patrick’s temple. “You okay?”

“Mmm...mhmm,” Patrick hums, opening his eyes to see David gazing down at him, his pupils blown wide and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Yeah,” Patrick says, nodding his head. “Give it to me, David. I want it. I want you to fuck me.”

David reaches down to grab Patrick’s leg, hooking it up over his shoulder. He presses a kiss to Patrick’s ankle, then he starts to move, slowly at first, but he picks up speed, and soon he’s fucking Patrick hard and fast, hips snapping forward and back as he absolutely wrecks Patrick with the force of his love and desire.

Patrick’s eyes roam greedily over David’s body. He’d spent 30 years of his life not knowing that he could have this, hadn’t even known to ask. And then David had come into his life like a monochrome whirlwind of designer knits and chest hair, skirted pants and raven locks that defied gravity. With David, Patrick finally found the courage to say “I want that. I want him. He’s mine.”

“You close?” David asks, his hips stuttering, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, between his eyebrows, to the tip of his nose. 

Patrick nods. “Yeah, baby. God, I’m almost there.”

David bites his lip. “Touch yourself, Patrick. I need to feel you come, want you to come while I’m inside you.”

Patrick reaches up to swipe the bead of sweat from David’s nose. Then he wraps his hand around his dick, pumping his fist frantically, keeping time with David’s thrusts, with the pulse of David’s cock inside of him. He’s right there, perched on the precipice of ecstasy, his body tense, coiled tight like a spring. And it’s so, so good. David feels so good, all around him. Inside of him. And then Patrick is coming, shuddering under David, around David. His toes curl and his fingers dig into the hard muscle of David’s shoulder and he cries out, David’s name on his lips.

Panting and spent, a sticky mess on his stomach, Patrick lets his hand slide down from David’s shoulder to grip his ass, urging him on, harder, faster, deeper. “Come on, baby. You feel so good. Give it to me, David.”

David comes with a groan that would have landed them a noise complaint back at his old apartment, or Ray busting in with a well-meaning but poorly timed “ _knock-knock_ ”.

But now it’s just them, just Patrick and his big strong husband who loves soft, delicate sweaters and sickly sweet coffee and Mariah Carey. And Patrick. He loves Patrick the most, and shows Patrick every chance he gets. 

Today, David mowed the lawn and then fucked Patrick into the floor. And Patrick has never felt so loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I got carried away. It was going to be pure smut, but Patrick started having feelings, and you all know I can’t resist these boys and their feelings. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, kudos and comments are gifts that never go out of style. I’d love to hear from you!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this was written quickly with no beta, so I’m sure there are a plethora of typos.
> 
> Come and say hi on Tumblr @delilah-mcmuffin
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> D McM


End file.
